


and i plan to be forgotten when i'm gone (yes i'll be leaving in the fall)

by stockholm_syndrom



Series: just to be closer when my spirit's pulled away [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Discussion of Assisted Suicide, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Oblivious Jaskier | Dandelion, Original Character Death(s), jaskier thinks he is cursed, jk i wish i had betas in my pack, mentions of depression, no betas we die as alphas, past jaskier/valdo, so there is discussion of suicide, too I suppose, valdo marx is a fuck boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23130448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stockholm_syndrom/pseuds/stockholm_syndrom
Summary: “That was more emotional than I expected.” He finally said “I didn’t think I’d have time to share this with you, and I.” Jaskier interrupted himself, as if unsure if he should continue. “I suppose I didn’t think it would upset you so.”“Jaskier” Geralt growled, not able to express how ludicrous that idea was.“Yes, I suppose I was wrong there.” Jaskier replied with a helpless shrug.----Or, Jaskier is cursed to turn into a monster. He doesn't think this is important information to mention.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: just to be closer when my spirit's pulled away [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662673
Comments: 350
Kudos: 2073





	and i plan to be forgotten when i'm gone (yes i'll be leaving in the fall)

**Author's Note:**

> Part one covers Jaskier's life and past, and part two will be present time from Geralt's POV. 
> 
> The lyrics are supposed to reflect songs Jaskier writes during the years the section refers to, with the exception of build me up buttercup. I used from the Tallest man on Earth as that's what I imagine Jaskier's songs are like during the later years of his life and i recommend listening to them if you like folk music, [Wild Hunt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iG3gjmRcDCE) and [I Won't Be Found/a>](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_YjK5Hk5Do)
> 
> I have not read the books, so I used random place names/monster names, sorry if they have some meaning I'm unaware off! To fit this story Geralt and Jaskier have travelled together 12 years rather than 22. 
> 
> Oh and I imagine Jaskier looking like [this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/395c7030b4c32464a6bcc3ec9a9d6330/ec07057965765350-dd/s500x750/e584768c2cb95a18fc33a51c095dd62ba083892b.png) in present time, but feel free to imagine him as you like. Some more images in end notes.

Jaskier, 30 years ago

Once upon a time, there was a hurt woman, and a guilty man. The man was powerful, as many terrible men are, but the woman had nothing to lose, and there is power in that to. In the end (or is it the beginning?) the woman died, and the man lived to suffer. 

Krzysztof Pankratz pride had been his unbroken line of strong sons, so that’s what she corrupted. 

At first they hadn’t known what the curse would do, all the woman had said (screamed as she burned) was that it ‘would lay bare their true nature, and show the world what they really were’. Then, six months later, their oldest child Alfred, started seeing the woman in his dreams, and the next moon he turned into a basilisk. There didn’t seem to be any exact rules to the curse, it claimed Krzysztof’s sons at adulthood, for some that was at twenty, some almost reached thirty. The monsters were different too, kikimores, basilisks or werewolves. They terrorise the forests and plains of his lands, and no mage or wise man has been able to reverse the curse or turn his sons back into humans. 

Even before the curse, Julia Pankratz had always dreamt of a daughter of her own, someone soft and tender for her to spoil, someone who wouldn’t be taken away from her and trained in cruelty and ruthlessness. After the curse, she prayed for a girl child with a desperation she had never known before. She visited places of worship, mages, and hedge witches. She drank potions, and prayed, and sacrificed, but none of it could change the fate of her unborn child, and so it was that Julian Alfred Pankratz, the fifth son of Krzysztof Pankratz was born into a cursed line.

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, 29-15 years ago

Little Julian grew up in a despairing home, filled with anger, accusations and a growing sense of desperation. His parents had to watch while their children mutated to beasts, one after the other, as their people jeered at them and cursed at them for turning their town into a place of monsters. 

His mother never recovered, and she tried to escape reality by shutting herself in with Julian, trying to distract them with songs and fairy tales. Krzysztof, who before the curse would never have dreamt of allowing one of his sons to grow up soft, saw no point in trying to shape Julian into a worthy heir, to even grow close to him, and they were left alone in their tower.

Julia never left her rooms, and most days she never left her bed. Julian wasn’t allowed far out of her sight, but he was an energetic child and tutors were brought in to keep him distracted. They taught him about music and fairy tales and also things he didn’t care much for like mathematics. His favourite lessons were in music, because no matter how sad his mother was, Julia always smiled at him when he sang. His best memories were of her teaching him songs in Keracki. 

Some days, she was to tiered to speak, so Julian learned how to talk for the both of them. Learnt how to distract, entertain and tell stories. Learnt how to voice every thought in his head to fill the silence while pretending he couldn’t see the darkness. He loved his mother more than anything, but it was a lonely childhood. 

No one in his father’s halls ever told Julian what Krzysztof did to get cursed as his father forbade the subject. So when Julian was twelve he sneaked into a tavern and listened to drunk men tell tales, and learnt that while he and his brothers did not deserve their fate, neither did the woman who cursed them, hanged with his sister in her belly. 

He had spent a lot of time angry at the curse and how it had destroyed his family. But now all he could see was people hurting people hurting people, and all this anger just kept carrying that hurt further. His brothers had all succumbed to the curse as bitter and angry people, hurting anyone they had power over to distract from their ultimate powerlessness. Since there was nothing he could do about the curse, Julian decided, all he could do was forgive and make sure that the hurt and pain ended with him.

His mother passed away after they buried Alexandr, and by the time Julian turned fifteen he was all alone in that big house with his absent father. He realised that he had never been outside the town gates, never kissed a girl, or been in a fight. He was struck by the realisation that he might only have a few years left, and he had seen nothing of the world. And so our story picks up when Julian, aged fifteen steals his tutor’s lute, his father’s coin, and sneaks out to _live_ before it’s too late.

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, 15-13 years ago

Julian arrived in Oxenfurt fifteen years old and with a lot of confidence and absolutely no real world experience. He threw himself into life there, though truth be told he might not have survived long had his cousin not recognised him on the street and enrolled him in the Academy, he got robbed three times his first week in the city, but what stories he had collected! 

Julian had no complaints though, if you spend fifteen years stuck in one tower, a whole city feels like the world. Julian hadn’t had any friends his own age before, and didn’t know how to do anything in moderation, and he loved and laughed every day. 

He spent two years in Oxenfurt, but while he loved learning, especially music, he couldn’t shake the restless feeling that he was wasting his time. In another life he would have lingered, but time was ticking and the world was yet to be discovered!

His music teacher, not understanding why he refused to complete his education before becoming a traveling bard was fond enough (or worried enough) that he introduced him to an old pupil situated in Novigrad that he could apprentice for until he was ready start his life as a traveling bard. 

Julian never stood a chance against Valdo Marx. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier 13 years ago

In Oxenfurt Julian had fooled around with boys and girls his own age, but his terror of getting a girl pregnant kept him from taking things all the way, and his dalliances with boys were mostly boarding school fun. Julian had made a vow to himself to leaving no mourners behind, but surely a little fun with his mentor was harmless? 

Valdo was ten years older than Julian, and he became his mentor in everything, lute playing, song writing, and love making. Julian felt like he had hung the moon, no one besides his mother had ever paid him this level of attention before. And since Julian had never learnt the value of self-preservation (his life was far too short to be cautious), he gave Valdo Marx everything he had. 

A more experienced man might have notices that Valdo’s teachings were always dripping in condescension, that he had no patience for Julian’s exuberant infatuation, or the way he talked down at him amongst friends. That he only really began to pay attention to Julian when he heard who his father was. But Julian was so used to squeezing out any affection he could, spent so many years surviving only on the love of an ill woman that the small morsels of affection he was granted felt like a feast. 

“Darling, tell me of your family.”

“Darling, you can trust me.”

“Darling I love you, I would never tell a soul.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

Julian first heard the Curse of Kerack played when he was attending a ball as Valdo’s apprentice. Valdo was presenting a new song he hadn’t heard yet, and since the other performers weren’t familiar with it, Julian’s job was to help them with the sheet music. 

When he heard the lyrics they made the blood freeze in his veins. 

Valdo had timed the song to be his last of the evening, and Julian could see the instantly that the song had caught everyone’s attention. The winter isolation had just begun to set in, it was clear that this would be all anyone spoke about for the next three months of social gatherings until the spring came and people could visit their relatives again. And then, if Julian was unlucky, it would spread.

He stood frozen until he noticed more and more eyes turning towards him. 

The curse was known all over Lettenhove, but it was a small town, and surrounded as it was by monsters they didn’t have much foot traffic anymore. His father might be a vassal to the king of Kerack, but he was a dour man rarely called to court. So the story of their tragedy, while not exactly a secret, had been contained, but thanks to Julian and his big mouth, that was all ruined.

Julian dragged Valdo with him into the corridor, screaming at him, then pleading to understand _why_ , asking him if he ever cared, doing his best not to cry. Valdo just waited until he quieted down to say “Respect doesn’t make history.” before walking back inside the ballroom and leaving Julian to stand there alone. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

[ _Dlaczego budujesz mnie (budujesz mnie) jaskier, skarbie_ ](https://youtu.be/jcfAqkPEBtI?t=17)

_Żeby mnie zawieść (zawieść) i zepsuć?_

_A potem najgorsze ze wszystkich (najgorsze ze wszystkich), do których nigdy nie dzwonisz, kochanie_

_Kiedy mówisz, że będziesz (mówisz, że będziesz), ale nadal cię kocham_

_Potrzebuję cię (potrzebuję cię) bardziej niż kogokolwiek, kochanie_

_Wiesz, że mam od samego początku_

_Więc zbuduj mnie (buduj mnie), jaskieru, nie łam mi serca_

Julian gave himself a full day to be upset and maudlin. He started by trashing Valdo’s rooms, burning all his sheet music and grabbing his purse. Then he went drinking, sung sad songs until he was kicked out of the tavern, and tried to forget. 

He woke up in an ally, thankfully with his lute and some coins left. He was still upset but he shook himself off, he was eighteen now, and had no time to waste on heartbreak. The world was calling and it was time to meet it.

He re-named himself Jaskier, the Keracki word for buttercup. His mother called him that growing up, after her favourite song, and it felt as much his name as Julian did. He felt like buttercups suited his personality well too, pretty, colourful, and very persistent. 

The world was so much bigger than Jaskier had ever thought, just walking from one town to the next took ages. He considered getting a horse, but he would freely admit he wasn’t much for saving coin. Life was to be enjoyed, what good would coins be in the grave? Better to put them towards ale and women! Not that he had much coin to begin with, it hadn’t been easy starting out as a bard in rural parts of the continent, he was struggling to understand what people wanted hear, used as he was to nobles and courts, but he was slowly starting to learn what got a room of peasants dancing.

Jaskier may not have had the nicest childhood, but it was only now he really understood poverty, what desperation made man do towards others, and how narrowminded the world could be. But where there was darkness there was also light. Jaskier fell in love with nature, the people, and the tales he heard in villages and taverns. A mother smiling at her child even when she looked exhausted, children in a village swarming around him and demanding a song, the freedom he felt when sleeping alone under the stars. 

He went to Posada simply because he had never been before, and was keen to test his new song. As a man highly invested in not producing heirs, he had put his knowledge to use and completed an educational and rather catchy song about protection. He was sure it would be a hit. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

So, the song was not a hit. Maybe educational songs were an unexplored niche for a reason, he reckoned, or perhaps he could have been a wee bit more subtle about the subject matter. Everyone was a critic. But hey, he at least got some (much needed) free food out of it. 

When he first spotted the gorgeous man sitting in the corner brooding, all he was looking for was a nice roll in the hay. He had not been expecting to run into Geralt of Rivia again, at least not yet, but destiny smiled upon him that day.

You see, Jaskier had a slightly different view of witchers than most, not wholly unexpected considering that his fate was to become a monster. But instead of fearing them like most people did, like you would expect him to, Jaskier found comfort in their existence. In knowing someone out there would be able to put a stop to him. His first meeting with the witcher had brought both tragedy and assurance. 

_/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////_

_“Julian, get back here!” his governess shouted_

_But Julian was chasing a kitten down the stairs, and would not be stopped._

_“Julian!”_

_His governess was getting nearer but there was no way she would make it in time to catch him, so Julian just laughed and increased his speed._

_“Julian, this isn’t proper! I will be informing your father!” She shouted, before admitting defeat and slamming the door to the study room._

_His escape now well and truly made, his focus was back on the kitten. He knew he shouldn’t be running in the corridors laughing, knew his father would have his hide once he found out. But it had been three months since his brother Tomasz transformed, and he was so tired of the gloom, his legs itched to move. His mother hadn’t gotten out of bed once since then and he was starting to think she never would. But watching the kitten play had been the first time he had gotten her to smile since the funeral. They had named her Dandelion, because her fur was all gray, and he had to get her back to his mother!_

_“Here kitty kitty!” he shouted, “Where are you Dandelion?” and so focused was he on the chase that he didn’t notice the man standing at the bottom of the stairs, running right into him._

_Julian looked up (and up) at the huge man in front of him. He might have gotten a bit frightened of this stranger, perhaps noting his armour or his two swords, had he not noticed that the man was holding his kitten by the scruff of its neck._

_“You found Dandelion!” he shouted while scrambling to his feet, over the moon at his good fortune._

_“Hmm.” the man replied, while handing him Dandelion._

_“Thank you sir for saving Dandelion, this house is very big and he would have gotten lost because he is very small!”_

_The man said nothing further, though he looked amused in that way adults do when they think you are being silly. Which Julian wasn’t! Dandelion was important! And also the man was covered in mud and stinky so Julian was not the odd one here! But now that he started to pay more attention to the big muddy man his curiosity was increasing by the second._

_“Who are you?” He asked the man._

_“I’m Geralt.”_

_“Why are you covered in mud Geralt? Do you know you smell? And what’s in your bag? why is it all bloody?” He asked and asked without stopping for breath._

_“I’m a witcher.”_

_“What’s a witcher?” He asked, but there was no time for a reply because his father had arrived._

_“Ah, a Witcher has been sent, I see” his father sighed._

_“A Kikimore had made its home by the only trade road that connects Westbay to your city, and since that’s their only access point to the southern provinces the King of Kerak posted a contract for its kill, writing that you will pay.” Geralt stated, “I have proof of kill in the bag, and I’m here for the coin I’m owed.”_

_“Tomasz always did like Westbay, they have the best whore house in the region.” His father sneered “And so I’m to pay you for killing my son. Well, if the King orders it, then I have no choice do I. Wait here.”_

_As his father turned to leave, Julian remained frozen where he stood, hugging Dandelion for comfort. He couldn’t stop staring at the bloody bag by the witchers feet. Was that his brother?_

_“Is that my brother?” He whispered, backing away from the man._

_“That’s a Kikimore’s head, not a man’s”_

_“Is he dead?” Julian knew that was a silly question, and that eight years was far too old to be asking silly questions, but he couldn’t help himself. He last saw his brother three months ago, they went riding, and he knew Tomasz was gone, understood that but a witcher had come to them with, with Tomasz head in a bag. It made him dizzy._

_“It’s dead” he replied._

_“Did it hurt? When you killed him, did it hurt him?” He was crying now, and Dandelion escaped when he tried to wipe away his tears, but the witcher caught her again._

_“No.” he replied, getting on one knee so that he was almost at Julian’s eye level, and holding out the kitten for him, “It went fast, there was no pain.”_

_“Do you promise?”_

_“I promise.”_

_///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////_

So, it was quite understandable that Jaskier got a bit flustered when he realised who was sitting in front of him. Talk of witcher’s wasn’t possible at home, so in Oxenfurt he had read anything and everything he could get a hand on, but there really wasn’t much information available, besides the fact that they kill monsters for coin. 

Saying that he wanted to write about their adventure wasn’t even a lie. His main motivation might have been a fascination with a part of himself he had never allowed himself to explore, but Jaskier was nothing if not an opportunist, who said you couldn’t face your worst fears and earn some coin while at it? 

It wasn’t anything he thought it would be. If what he had been taught his whole life about the elves were a lie, what more was out there to discover? The world had just gotten bigger, and Jaskier needed to as much of it as he could. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, 11-10 years ago 

After their adventure in Posada it only took a few months before they ran into each other again, and Jaskier attached himself to Geralt’s side once more. 

Jaskier was determined to see as much of the continent as he could, and at Geralt side he saw more than most humans ever had. There where horrors and wonders, creatures and magic.

At first, Jaskier’s adventures with Geralt kept him away from the more dangerous monsters, the Silvian and the elves, not monsters in the first place, were all he saw for a long time. Unless the witcher dealt with creatures more troublesome than dangerous Jaskier stayed at inns or campsites while Geralt slayed the dangerous monsters, settling for second hand accounts of the kills. He made big show out of his objections, complaining of being left out. But truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to come face to face with a real monster just yet. To look at a cockatrice or a kikimore and come face to face with his future. 

Based on some of the teasing, Geralt can tell he is apprehensive, though he probably thinks it’s due to common sense. Hah, as if Jaskier went in for something like that. 

They spend months together this time before winter pulls them apart, Geralt off somewhere mysterious and Jaskier setting his sites on Nilfgaard, he had heard the best things about their women. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, eight years ago

_Shout out to my ex, you’re really quite the man._

_You made my heart break and that made me who I am._

_Here’s to my ex, hey, look at me now_

_Well, I’m all the way up, I swear you’ll never bring me down._

Jaskier is currently penniless and stripped of all possessions! Well, not completely true, but he is feeling dramatic, and no one is here to correct his narration of the events. Valdo, fucking Valdo Marx! With his Countess! Why, why, why, when Jaskier had worked so _hard_ , to reinvent himself as Jaskier the bard, did his past have to worm its way back? 

He didn’t take the easy way out like _Valdo_ , didn’t use his (higher, he might add) title to get himself situated in a cosy nobleman’s house, without putting in any of the effort. Okay, so Jaskier had never intended to lock himself into another tower, but it’s not about that, it’s about the _principal_. He had started from scratch, toured villages and faced real danger for inspiration! While Valdo, they lazy hack, sang uninspired songs with conventional melodies. Truly, Jaskier could not see how he still had a court willing to take him in! Though maybe his favour was running out, if he had travelled this far just to schmooze Jaskier’s Countess. 

“Ugh” He couldn’t help but sigh, it wasn't Valdo’s songs that he was upset about, it was just easier to rant about a familiar subject. What had upset him was the fact that now Jaskier the bard would be tied to the tragic and cursed Julian Alfred Pankratz. He had worked _so_ _hard_. Jaskier had been invited to Pavetta’s betrothal on the strength of his songs and nothing else, he had written songs that had travelled the whole continent. He couldn’t start over again, he didn’t have time to start over again. But now, if he preformed at court, people would be asking him about the Pankratz curse, not his latest song. Nothing took the buzz away from a good performance than people eager to sink their teeth into the most sensitive part of you. 

He had refused to share any gossip about his family with the Countess and she kicked him out. Four years he had spent winters in her court, even when better offers were on the table. Because while it wasn’t love what they shared, he had thought they were friends, and it had been lovely he had thought, the companionship. 

He had been so distraught he had waltzed out with just his lute. It was lucky he had his coin purse on him. Valdo was still in the castle with her, and he hadn’t been able to go inside and face them, though he needed to collect his belongings. Maybe a small wander would calm him down, and he would go back and find a servant to collect his belongings discreetly. 

He started singing to cheer himself up. Oh, and look, there was Geralt. And he was fishing! Marvellous, Jaskier was starving and in need of a distraction, fate must be smiling down on him now. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, five years ago

[ _Well, I had a man, who was long and tall_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQyPVBtLXk0)

_He moved his body like a cannon ball_

_Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well_

_Now one of these mornings, it won't be long_

_You'll call my name, and I'll be gone_

_Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well._

He had sworn to himself, as he watched his mother suffer the loss of one son after the other, that he would never put anyone though the pain of loving him. He still held on to that vow, and had spent a decade being a visitor in everyone’s lives, a person that at most might be missed and remembered in a vague way, for his songs and merriment, but not in a way that would hurt someone.

Life as a traveling bard solved that problem. He was only ever in a place long enough for both parties to be more than briefly infatuated, to charm and be charmed. Gone long before any meaningful feelings could be developed. 

This suited him just fine, he loved life, he loved nature, he loved humans and many of the beings he got to meet. That was enough. The world filled him up with enough joy and love that he didn’t need it from one specific person.

He was always careful when he took a woman to bed, there were tricks one could pull to lessen the chance of pregnancy, but there was always that small risk. Which was why, he preferred wives and mothers, they had their own tricks up their sleeves and experience at avoiding unwanted pregnancies. Plus they were unlikely to be after anything deeper than a fun tumble in the sheets. 

He truly loved bedding women, but he could never allow himself to relax fully with them. Thankfully, though it demanded a bit of discretion outside the larger cities, there were also men. With men it didn’t matter where anyone put their cock, the risk of pregnancy was zero, and so Jaskier could throw himself into the experience without any need for vigilance (to the frustration of Geralt who would not so kindly request ‘a fucking bit of common sense about where you put your cock Jaskier!’ when they had to flee a town in the cover of darkness, but he digresses). 

Life went on this way, and Jaskier never had a reason to worry about his system failing him. But he hadn’t been taking Geralt into account. Spending day in and day out with the same person… complicates things. The first few years of their acquaintances, they spent as much time apart as together. Jaskier still felt like he had so much left to see and experience, things that held no interest to Geralt such as the theatres of Temaria or the ancient ruins in Skellige, so whenever their paths crossed Jaskier would tag along for a season or two before striking off on his own again. 

He couldn’t even pinpoint when things changed, is the thing. Jaskier always follows his heart (unless doing so would harm someone) and he knows he is a very impulsive man. To say that he wasn’t prone to hesitation or overthinking, was to put it lightly. He’d just never had the luxury of time. This was at its most obvious when he ended up in trouble for bedding the wrong person, or in danger when following Geralt even when told to stay back. But, now it also had him trailing after Geralt for years and years, only separating when he had to for the winter, and he had never made the conscious decision to do so. As the years went past, Jaskier frantic need to see and experience as much as he could hand been eased by the exciting life he had led ever since he was eighteen, now he found as much fulfilment at a quiet campsite as he did on a grand adventure. He was happier with Geralt than without him, and so he had simply stayed by his side. 

His vow to leave no mourners behind made Geralt the perfect travel companion. They were friends, Jaskier was sure of it, but he also knew that the depth of affection he felt for Geralt was one sided. 

It hurt, sometimes, to get what you wanted. But in the end, Jaskier wouldn’t change a thing. What a gift it was to love someone again, to give Geralt some of the love that had had nowhere to go after his mother passed. And to be in love, oh how glad he was that he got to know what it felt like. He had actively avoided it, thought it brought nothing but pain, and oh it hurt sometimes, but mostly it just filled him up, this love. Sharing life with Geralt brought him this quiet contentment that we just wanted to soak in all the days he had left. And what a relief to know that when his time was over, he had gotten to love someone without leaving heartbreak behind, it was almost like cheating destiny. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, three years ago

[ _Well if I ever see the morning_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_YjK5Hk5Do)

_Just like a lizard in the Spring_

_I'm gonna run out in the meadow_

_To catch the silence where it sings_

Jaskier had planned the end of his life with more care than most noble women had spent planning their wedding. His fate might be to turn into a monster, but he would do his best to make sure he never harmed anyone. His brothers had told him of the witch entering their dreams on a full moon, and by the next they all changed. Having seen the pattern repeat four times, Jaskier felt pretty confident that he would have a month’s warning to ensure everyone safety. 

He wished to end his life before he transformed, he wanted to die as Jaskier, with all his memories and emotions, not as some mindless monster. Following a witcher around for over a decade, one picks up on a few things, and he feared for the possibility that the curse might not accept him evading his fate, that it could backfire and turn his body into something undead, he had no way of knowing and that scared him, the possibility that he could fail and cause harm.

He had always assumed that his death would be a solitary affair, until he met Geralt. But with Geralt at his side, he didn’t have to worry, he knew the witcher wouldn’t hesitate to do what was right, that he would help Jaskier once the time was near. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, one year ago

_“Let’s go to the coast”_

_“I want to work out what pleases me”_

_“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”_

Knowing that life could end at any time, had taught Jaskier to forgive swiftly. So it didn’t take him long to forgive Geralt, and he even considered turning back and re-joining him, before his common sense took over and he continued down the mountain. Geralt had hurt Jaskier because he himself was hurting and if Jaskier re-joined him before Geralt was ready he would just hurt him again, perhaps even worse this time. Geralt needed time to be alone to lick his wounds, and Jaskier would have to give him what he needed. He just didn’t know if he had enough time left to wait for Geralt’s wounds to heal. 

Jaskier made a small fire at the bottom of the mountain and set up camp outside within sight of the path, rather than at the inn, knowing that Geralt would spot him if he came down, and hoping he would join him. 

As he waited Jaskier laid on his back watching the stars and reflecting. The coast had been calling for him a while now, and at first he had just taken it as another of his whims. But this adventure had reminded him of the fact that his time was coming up, and this time it wasn’t in some distant future. Jaskier was twenty nine now, and somehow he knew he was down to his final months. 

Geralt’s wish that life would take Jaskier off his hands, was about to come through soon. Had he really meant it? He can’t have meant it, _he can’t_ , not when he gave Jaskier the best years of his life. Could have been so one sided, was he still that same foolish boy who got taken in by Valdo? 

He just can’t spend his final days thinking all these years meant nothing, so he just wouldn’t believe them. He just wouldn’t. 

Before this hunt he had assumed that he would have Geralt at his side when it happened, that after this they could go to the coast so he could see it one last time, and he could tell Geralt what was coming when they were there, away from all these distractions. Perhaps he could get Geralt to stay until his final days, or if that was unlikely then at least they could continue their adventures until the end. He had started to hope he wouldn’t have to die alone, maybe he could have the one person that meant the most to him by his side. 

He fell asleep lying on his side and staring at the path, hoping, hoping, hoping. 

The next morning, he picked himself up and set off towards the coast. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, 11-1 month ago

[ _I left my heart to the wild hunt a-coming_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iG3gjmRcDCE)

_I live until the call_

_And I plan to be forgotten when I'm gone_

_Yes I'll be leavin' in the fall_

It takes him a few weeks of walking until he reaches the coast, as he makes sure to stop in all the villages and towns he passes to preform and collect coin. He spends another few days walking the coast until he finds the perfect town. 

He finally finds one with a tavern in need of a bard. At first the population is a bit weary of him, they are all fishermen used to hard work and harsh life, but Jaskier is used to charming surly men at this point and its not long until they start to accept him. 

He introduces himself as Julian, for the first time in almost thirteen years. It feels right. Jaskier and Julian, they are both him, and he finds that he is ready to join both sides of himself at last. 

And if it also means the town has no idea he wrote those famous witcher songs, well, that’s nice a bonus. He thought his inspiration would run out when Geralt left his life, but to his great joy, he finds the opposite to be true. He writes about himself for the first time, what he saw, how he loved, and how he will leave. 

The town loves a folk song (or they just love him), and he gets to sing every evening. He needs to find an island to rent, and to earn more coin he helps out in any way he can, transcribing letters, teaching reading and writing, and entertaining the town children in song and dance. 

His little island is the most isolated one he could find, with a cute red cabin and a small dock. And now he has to learn how to row. It’s harder than it looks, he tells his neighbour, who ever so kindly rescued him. But Jaskier slowly improves as he rows out every day to sing his songs. 

It’s not a bad life. The people are good and he feels at peace. He has travelled half his life, and it’s a pleasant surprise to him how much he enjoys this stability. If he sometimes misses having someone at his side, well, Jaskier never lingered on regrets. 

When the dream comes summer is just starting, and Jaskier pushed aside his sorrow, tells himself that’s another thing to be grateful for, getting to die under a warm summer sun. He wastes no time making his arrangements, he borrows a horse and puts flyers along the coast and inland, and in case no witcher comes, he orders everything he will need to handle things himself. 

He finds himself staying on his island more, singing or painting from memory everything he got to see in his thirty years. He remembers his mother, his friends in Oxenfurt, the beauty he saw and heard. Geralt. 

He wishes he wasn’t alone, that Geralt was here with him. That someone would hug him. But he doesn’t have a single regret about the life he lead. He always followed his heart, and he allows himself to hope that maybe he will leave this world just a bit better for having had him. 

He had a good life. No, he had a _fantastic_ life. 

He is ready. 

* * *

Geralt, present day

Geralt is in Creyden when he reads a posting for a contract near Pont Vanir, a few hours away by the Cost. They give no description of the monster, only writing that it’s contained for now and they are asking for a witcher to help finish the job, for a generous award. Payment from one Julian ‘Jaskier’ Pankratz, inquire in tavern. 

It takes a moment for his brain to process what he read, but when it does his stomach drops and his heart starts to speed up. He hasn't seen Jaskier since he shouted at him on the mountaintop more than a year ago, and he can’t imagine what kind of trouble the bard has gotten himself into in the meantime. 

Geralt tells himself he isn’t running towards Roach, he just happened to reached her faster than usual. In a matter of seconds, he is on Roaches back and cantering towards the village Jaskier is staying in, hurrying towards.... the coast. Trying to push down the uncomfortable feeling that memory brings forth, he instead finds himself focusing on what could have happened to Jaskier, that has him resorting to asking for help through flyers. Did he travel this far himself, going by foot or horse to all nearby towns? Was he alone, or had anyone helped him? These lines of thought are doing nothing except causing feelings of guilt and worry to increase, and he tries to bring his mind to the present, leaning forward in his saddle and whispering to Roach “please girl, just a little faster”. 

Finally Roach as brought him to the outskirts of the village, and Geralt steered her towards an elderly man leisurely walking in the same direction with a donkey trailing behind him with some supplies on its back. The man nearly pissed himself at the sight on a witcher racing towards him, eyes crazed and sweat on his brow. 

“Where is Jaskier? Where is the bard?” Geralt opened his mouth and growled out in a barely human voice.

“W- wh who?” the man finally stammered out faintly. The realisation that the witcher wasn’t about to cut him down was starting to set in, but he was still clearly in a faint state of shock. 

“The man who posted about a witcher contract, where does he stay?” Geralt said, making a slight effort to sound less murderous, in an effort to get an answer from the terrified man. 

“Th. That would be Julian you are looking for then. He lives on Sirens Cove, you can reach it from the harbour” the man replied, looking unsure as to whether he wanted to share Jaskier’s whereabouts, but he was eager enough to get away from the witcher that he provided the information without objection and started slowly backing away into the ditch to escape Geralt. 

Geralt left him to it. He could smell the harbour from where he was standing, and steered Roach towards it. Once he arrived he wasted no time securing her a place in a barn and making his way to the nearest tavern to inquire about transportation to Jaskier’s island. 

“I need transport to Sirens Cove” Geralt told the barman, ordering an ale he started downing the moment it arrived, not having had a drink all day. 

“I’ll see what I can do, Witcher.” The barman mumbled, making his way towards a table of fishermen. 

Unsurprisingly, no one in the tavern is keen to row off alone with a witcher, and Geralt is considering if he has enough coin to purchase a small rowing boat when a woman in her fifties stands up and makes her way across the room. 

“This witcher is here for our Julian.” She says in a carrying voice. “He has come to help him, so if none of the strong men in this place can find it in themselves to lend an oar, I suppose I’ll just have to take you there myself.” She continues walking as she speaks, not stopping once she reaches or making eye contact. 

“Come, along, Witcher, before the sun sets, if you please”. 

Geralt follows, and neither of them speaks as they get on a boat with just enough room for the both of them and whatever packages already loaded onboard. The woman grabs the oars and Geralt pushes down the urge to offer assistance, knowing the offer wouldn't be welcomed. 

Geralt rarely takes contracts on the coast, while the ocean carries it fair share of monsters, he has only slayed water based beasts in lakes or ponds. Fishermen don’t often make it far enough into the sea to bother its inhabitants and are more apt at avoiding trouble than most men. Not that he senses any danger here, as he is taken along the archipelago, spotting cabins and small houses belonging to those who chose to live more isolated lives. 

The water is still and carries the sounds of the island inhabitants they pass, and the early evening sun is in his eyes, causing him to squint and sweat as he sits there in the little rowing boat sweltering in his leather armour. He must look comically out of place. 

They’ve been rowing for about half an hour, now when his guide starts steering them towards what looks like the last habited island. While he doesn’t sense any fear of her, he can tell she is weary of him, and they haven’t spoken a word since the tavern. 

“I had a delivery for Julian planned for tomorrow.” She says breaking the silence as she slows down the boat down carefully steering towards the approaching dock “We might as well carry this all up now, spare me a trip tomorrow.” She paused here, debating with herself whether she should speak her mind or not. 

She reaches a decision when they reach the dock and anchor the boat, looking into Geralt’s eyes as she says “We like Julian here, he is a very open and happy fellow, he has really raised the spirits here. Great bard. Been no trouble.”

Geralt can’t help raising an eyebrow at that, Jaskier staying out of trouble has to be a first. 

“A wee bit outspoken and a flirt true, but harmless really.” She replies “But then he starts posting about witchers three weeks back. Won’t tell anyone what it’s about, just that it’s nothing dangerous. But you will be begging my pardon, no one in their right mind asks for a witcher if it isn’t too dangerous for normal folk to manage, and we are strong folk here” She makes no move to get up so Geralt stays waiting. 

“Then last week he came into town to buy his food and put in an order, and a most peculiar order it was. Enough oil to last a family of five a full year, a silver knife and rations for a few weeks. Then he told me that after my deliver I should spread word that no one is to come to his island unless it’s with a witcher.” 

“Did he give any explanation?” Geralt asked, the feelings of worry creeping back in. 

“None. Just that the island would be dangerous once the full moon arrived. I asked point blanc if he be a werewolf, but wasn’t offended, just laughed. We haven’t heard any howling before on the full moon neither, but you’ve got to admit that this behaviour is mighty strange.” 

“We like Julian, and the kids miss his singing. It’s been hard to know what to make of all this, but I hope that you can help him, and let him know that anything he needs, we will help.” Talking done, she nodded decisively once and started loading her cargo onto the dock. 

“I’ll leave you here, you look strong enough to manage a few parcels on your own.” She says as Geralt steps out of the boat, removing the rope and rowing of. 

Geralt is left standing amongst the parcels and gazing at the cabin. The worry for Jaskier was still gnawing at his stomach, but it seemed like his brain had caught up with his instincts. The moment he read the contract he had been single-mindedly focusing on reaching Jaskier and getting him out of whatever danger he had gotten himself into, but now that he was here it was like he realised all at once, that he was about to come face to face with the bard for the first time since the mountain. 

Being caught gazing forlornly at Jaskier’s cabin wouldn’t make this any less awkward, Great told himself, forcing himself forward, gathering up the parcels and setting off towards the cabin. It wasn’t much of a walk, the cabin stood at the centre of the little island, with no more then twenty metres of land surrounding it on all sides, most of it rock, though there were a few trees and some green. This far out in the archipelago, all he could see were islands too small to inhabit. Jaskier seemed to have chosen most isolated place possible to settle down, which went against everything Geralt thought he knew of the outgoing bard. 

Geralt took a moment to extend his senses, but there was no one else but them on the island.

Finally, yet also way to soon, Geralt stood in front of the cabin door and gave it a knock. He could hear Jaskier puttering about inside, halting his chores and approaching the door. 

Jaskier opened the door wide, the warmth and light of the sun spilling around him as he stood illuminated in the doorway.

Geralt had hoped he would run into Jaskier ever since his temper cooled and he realised what he had done. Responsibility and destiny had gotten in the way of Geralt tracking Jaskier down however, and regret over how they had left things had been a small weight on his mind ever since, another regret to carry around, but one he had hoped to rectify whenever their paths crossed. When he had imagined how seeing Jaskier would go, he had expected to receive pouts, harsh (and deserved) words and maybe a cold shoulder or two. But now with the contract in mind he had no idea how this would play out. 

“Oh. It’s you” Jaskier said, eyes wide. 

“You asked for a witcher” 

“And you came. I’m glad.” Jaskier said taking a step forward and looking Geralt over. “I see you brought my supplies as well, very efficient this new witcher service. I’ll make sure to leave a tip.” 

The contract had implied danger, their recent past had Geralt expecting anger, nothing had prepared him for the chocked warmth and relief that met him. He felt wrong footed and confused, not feelings that brought out the best in him. 

“Where is the monster? Are you in danger?” Geralt growled out, his urgency making his words sound hash and angry. 

“No, I’m not in danger at the moment, and it hasn’t arrived yet, you came in good time. Why don’t we bring my supplies in and talk over dinner? You must be starving. I just started preparing some food, I’ll just throw in some more potatoes now that there’s two of us.” 

“Hmm” Geralt replied, not that Jaskier waited for one, he had already gathered up two of the parcels and made his was in. Geralt was still hoovering by the door way like an uninvited vampire, until Jaskier hand came out to tug at his sleeve, and his legs started to obediently follow him in. 

“Did Zandra row you here? Oh, why am I asking, of course she did, the parcels are a pretty big clue, and I think she is probably the bravest person in the area, so strong. Wasn’t that impressed by my charms sadly, said she is old enough to be my mother, but I told her of course that as long as she wasn’t mine, why should that come in the way? I love a woman who knows what she wants, as you know, but anyway dinner should be ready in a moment, go ahead and clean up if you wish, there is a wash basin and clean water in my room.” 

Jaskier talking eased some of the tension from Geralt. He could tell that Jaskier was a bit nervous, he always prattled away when trying to take his mind of it. The familiarity of Jaskier, of them together in one place, it relaxed him against his will, and he found himself following Jaskier’s direction, for lack of anything better to do. He took his time removing his armour, placing it on the bedroom chair, and looking over Jaskier’s sleeping quarters. 

As far as he knew, though he wasn’t sure, Jaskier had not had his own home during the years they had travelled together. As he travelled on foot and with a lute he had to pack lightly, so despite his love of the finer things, Jaskier was not a man with many possessions. Despite this, the sleeping quarters managed to reflect his personality. His clothes were thrown messily around the room, there was a large tapestry hanging opposite the bed, looking like it had been made by young children, and small paintings of landscapes on the other walls. 

After washing his hands, Geralt himself propped against the open doorway, taking a moment to observe Jaskier while he prepared dinner. He had looked mostly the same at first glance, not surprising since their separation had not been that long. But not that Geralt studied him he noticed that his shoulders looked a little broader, his arms stronger, probably from having to row into the harbour most days. His hair was different too, it had grown too long to fall over his forehead, and now it framed his face, curling slightly. He was dressed casually, just plain trousers and a chemise with the sleeves rolled up high, not odd for a man home alone, and it brought to mind evenings and mornings shared at camp sites, that in-between time when it had been just the two of them. He looked hale and healthy, and Geralt breathed out a sigh of relief. 

When he first met Jaskier, he had had an almost frantic energy about him. This had mellowed out in the later years of their travels, but still Jaskier had always been a man looking for new experiences. It was strange to see him so settled. For some reason Geralt didn’t quite understand, it ached a little. 

“Grab a chair, dinner is on the table. It isn’t much, but, knowing what you usually eat I’m not terribly embarrassed to expose you to my cooking. I’ve been trying to learn how to make bread this week. Who knew three ingredients could cause such trouble?” Jaskier laughed, while putting a basked with the flattest breads Geralt had ever seen on the table. “Yes yes, always a critic, I’d like to see you make better, hmmm? Well, dig in.” Jaskier gave a extravagant bow and fluttered his hands towards the bowls of stew before taking his own seat and digging in. 

“Now dear witcher, why don’t you tell me some about your adventures of the past year?” 

Geralt arched an eyebrow at the smiling bard, and Jaskier replied “Yes yes, you have questions and that’s fair, this was a terrible dramatic way for me to get you here, but trust that there is no danger here tonight, and indulge an old friend. Lets catch up first.”

“But you do have need for a witcher? You didn’t just post the contract to get me to visit you?” Geralt asked, voicing a suspicion that had been growing due to the lack of danger. 

“I do have need for a witcher, but not for three days’ time. It’s a terrible easy job for quite a generous pay, and we can go over all of that tomorrow.” Jaskier replied in a more serious tone, looking Geralt in the eyes as he spoke. “But I have missed you, my friend. And I find it more urgent this evening to break bread together, although it might take someone of your strength to break these, and hear what you have been up to.”

The familiar scent of Jaskier in the cabin, the warmth of his reception and the fact that Geralt had missed him this past year had him made him decide to humour him, and Geralt started telling him of Cintra, Ciri, and Yennefer. Dinner was hearty and filling, and while the breads were a hazard even to witcher teeth, Geralt ate them anyway. 

Once the food was consumed Jaskier unpacked two bottles of wine, and they went to sit outside on the small porch, and Geralt listened to the waves hitting Jaskier’s little island shores while they continued talking. Jaskier brought out his lute to sing a few of his more mellow songs, and then just kept strumming out soft melodies while Geralt spoke of Kaer Morhen in the winter, or the latest kikimora he slayed. 

Geralt wanted to apologise for what he said to Jaskier on the mountain, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the spell that had fallen over their evening. After a while neither spoke and the waves and Jaskier’s soft harmonies were the only sounds filling Geralt’s mind. He felt content, like he could breathe out for the first time in ages. The past year had been a mix of worry and wonder when it came to Ciri. But loneliness too, he found himself able to admit to himself, that came from missing Jaskier. He had spent countless nights over the past decade like this, not really appreciating what a gift they were, because spending time with Jaskier by his side just happened so easily, almost without his say, and so he never felt the need to analyse it further, to appreciate what he had while he had it. 

If he could spend every evening like this, he would die a content man, he realised. And he didn’t see why he couldn’t. Jaskier could come with him to Kaer Morhen, or if Jaskier wished to stay then he and Ciri could come here when she was trained. Jaskier had certainly found a safe place to settle in, Ciri could be safe here. Geralt could take work in the area and then return to them and evenings like these. The idea of it brought a smile to his face.

Before, he never would have entertained thought like these, determined as he was to flee destiny or any complicated emotions, he repressing everything down so deep he ended up making a mess of his life when it all erupted. Binding Yennefer to him because he thought she was someone like him, someone he couldn’t hurt, never really listening to who she was and what she wanted. He is glad she forgave him enough to train Ciri and start a truce. Taking responsibility, and finding and caring for Ciri had changed him. He had to open himself up to her, she was terrified and all alone, and she needed that from him, he couldn’t remain an emotionless wall. Once he had started to consciously break down some walls and open up to her, they had started to become a family. One that was still a little stilted and awkward, law of surprise bond or not, Geralt was new at this and Ciri traumatised, but they were making their way. Things were good. 

Sitting here with Jaskier on a late summers evening, he found that the walls around his heart that he had painstakingly broken down for Ciri, left him too open now to deny the depth of affection he felt for Jaskier, though he felt far from ready put a name on them. 

But they had time, Geralt thought as he glanced at Jaskier, who had fallen asleep with fingers still twitching against the lute strings, murmuring under his breath as if unable to stop singing even for a moment. Geralt sat gazing at him for a time yet, amused and charmed by the ridiculous sight, before lifting Jaskier and putting him to bed, laying down beside him and falling asleep to the familiar sounds of his murmurs. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

The sun hitting his eyes ended up waking Geralt from his slumber, though Jaskier had avoided the same fate by dragging a pillow over his head. Geralt couldn’t help the fondness that rose up in him. He rose and went outside to relive himself in the ocean, and found Jaskier sitting up looking rumpled and still half asleep when he returned, but he greeted Geralt with a wide smile when he spotted him. 

“Did you carry me in?” He asked, and when Geralt nodded he continued speaking “Good morning, let me go take care of nature and then I’ll prepare some food. If you want to help, get some water boiling for the tea and porridge. There is water in the tankard over there”

“Hmm” Geralt replied, doing as he was told.

“Hmm to you to” Jaskier yawned, patting Geralt’s shoulder when he passed him to go outside. 

Kettle on the boil, Geralt explored the living quarters more closely then he had yesterday when his focus had been on Jaskier and the food. 

There were more landscape paintings on the walls, this time larger once, some detailed and others more abstract, putting to mind that feeling of half remembered but well-loved places. He spotted some blank canvases and paint in the corner, and turned to sniff one of the paintings to see if it had been recently painted. Had Jaskier painted all these?

“Sniffing paintings, that’s a new habit you’ve picked up.” 

Geralt quickly straightened and took a step back, but it was too late, he had been caught, to Jaskier’s clear delight. 

“That’s where we made camp after you killed the werewolf, near Gulera, but I promise you the painting is safe. No hidden portals.”

“You made all these?” Geralt asked. 

“I did, found myself with some time on my hands, and the urge to relive some memories” Jaskier replied with a fond, or was it a sad smile? Could a person feel both at the same time? Geralt tried to scent Jaskier for clues to his emotions but the overwhelming scent of turpentine was clouding his nose. “Usually I’d put them into song, but there are only so many way to describe a field really. And my mother liked to paint, she taught me how.” 

“What was her name?”

“Julia.”

“You were named after her?” Geralt asked surprised. He knew Jaskier had noble roots, and noble men were greedy, usually every son was named after the men in their line, or a favourite king they wished to flatter. 

“I was, yes. I was the fifth son, and by the time I arrived… my father just let her get on with it I suppose. My childhood was just the two of us and whatever tutor I hadn’t driven off yet.” 

Jaskier talked constantly, but Geralt was beginning to understand that he had kept quiet about some things. Why? Had he waited to be asked, or could he have spoken of this before to def ears? Geralt truly couldn’t tell, which disturbed him a little. 

“The food is ready and it’s time we break our fast.” Jaskier suddenly announced, visibly shaking of the melancholy that has settled into his voice, and distracting Geralt from his guilty thoughts. 

Geralt helped himself to some porridge and took his cup of tea to the table, where Jaskier joined him, but not before sprinkling some blueberries onto Geralt’s bowl as if he was salting a bath. Well salting a bath like Jaskier and no one else salted a bath. Which meant half of the blueberries made it into the bowl and Geralt had to use his quick reflexes to stop the rest from rolling of the table. 

“The Great Geralt of Rivia has successfully rescued the blueberries from certain doom!” Jaskier crowed “For that his reward is… another blueberry!” 

The blueberry reward was flung at his face and Jaskier cackled when Geralt caught it with his mouth. Breakfast was a cheerful affair, and once the plates were cleared and clean Jaskier took him on a tour of his little island, and to go fishing for their lunch. 

Jaskier made Geralt dig for worms to use as bait, curious to learn if he could use Axii to hypnotise worms and make them come out. Geralt couldn’t deny his own curiosity, but after casting Axii on dirt with no success it proved to be a bit of a failure. Kneeling in the dirt and trying to hypnotise worms, Geralt was glad Vesemir wasn’t around to see what Jaskier could talk him into doing. Jaskier’s joy was infections though, and sticking his hands into dirt and throwing it at him as an alternate worm finding method proved too much fun to resist. 

By the time they had enough worms they were covered in dirt and out of breath from their impromptu dirt fight, and they were quite the sight as they set up on Jaskier’s dock for some fishing. 

They took turns going into the water to rinse themselves off and laid out their clothes to dry, laying side by side in the sun drying off. Jaskier’s eyes were closed and Geralt found his eyes traveling over his body. Long lean legs spread out, one bent at the knee, and a hand on his stomach was rubbing absentmindedly at the water droplets still lingering there. There were traces of a summer spent outdoors all over Jaskier. Freckles on his nose and cheeks, sun had bleached his hair and freckles covered his strong shoulders and arms, still pink from time spent to long in the sun, probably the fool rowed around without proper clothes on despite his pale skin. 

Jaskier looked content, soft, and relaxed. He looked delicious and inviting. There was less then a foot of space between them, and if Geralt reached out and touched, would Jaskier let him? He was pretty sure he would. He knew there was still a conversation that needed to be had, apologies he needed to make, and he didn’t want to rush into anything and ruin the warm welcome he had received. But then his eyes met Jaskier gaze, which had been slowly traveling up his own body and when he met the heated gaze, his hand started to move of its own accord. 

“You keep watch.” Jaskier suddenly ordered Geralt, rising hastily and breaking the moment. He shook his head like a dog, making Geralt hiss and swat at his leg when cold drops of water hit his overheated skin. His irritation seemed to delight Jaskier. 

“I think you are too relaxed to pull off a scary face, but good try!” He laughed, “Don’t fall asleep, our meal depends on it.” 

Jaskier’s exit afforded Geralt a very pleasant view though, and he raised himself up on his elbows to keep it in his eyeline until Jaskier disappeared inside. 

A few minutes later Jaskier was walking back carrying an easel and painting supplies, that he set up next to Geralt on the dock. 

“You know I don’t go in for all that silence, I must have a distraction, and this is a view worth capturing.” He said while winking down at Geralt. 

Geralt wasn’t sure how true that was anymore, that aversion to silence. Jaskier at eighteen couldn’t last three minutes without speaking, but Jaskier at thirty had learnt to accept silences. Sure, he still created more noise than the average person, chattering and humming as he went by his day, but he could never have gotten on in an island this deserted if time hadn’t changed him. Humans changed so much in their lifetime, meet a man at twenty and barley recognise who he becomes a fifty. Humans made immortal or long living like witchers or mages on the other hand, they get set in their ways and stagnate, rarely grow or change. After a point they remain the same year in and out, and time starts to loose meaning to them, Geralt always found this comforting, knowing where you had people even after years and years apart. He was so unused to spending extended time with humans, to looking for change in those close to him, that he had failed to see the subtle changes and the maturation. He had been seeing and treating Jaskier as if he was still that foolish eighteen year old boy in Posada running head first into trouble, not allowing that image to grow with Jaskier and to take in the man he was today.

Time went by and didn’t speak, Geralt keeping an eye on the fishing poles and gutting fish whenever one was caught, sometimes thinking of the man beside him and sometimes dosing in the sun. In these parts of the continent the sun set after midnight this time of year, and their existence felt like a most pleasant dream, or limbo. Geralt found himself wishing that Jaskier had in fact lied about his need for a witcher, that this was all a ruse to lure him here. But he knew Jaskier had been speaking the truth yesterday, though he seemed reluctant to address whatever his need was now that he had a witcher at hand. And Geralt, who was usually not a patient man, had allowed the distractions to happen without protest. It was tempting let this continue, but not to far from here Ciri was expecting his return, and he was supposed to be earning enough coin for them to survive the coming winter. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Jaskier stomach growling. 

“Well then, that the bell ringing for lunch.” Jaskier announced, “We should make a fire outside and grill the fish, you remember where the fire pit is. I’ll just put these back inside and we can get started.“

Jaskier was off with his easel and paints, and Geralt gathered up the fish, rinsed his hands in the water and made his way to the fire pit behind the house. Gathering up some of the firewood stacked against the cabin wall, he used Igni to start up a fire. By the time Jaskier arrived with wine and spices the fish were already cooking. 

“Jaskier,” He said, turning to his friend, determined to raise the issue “why do you have need for a witcher?”

“I suppose now is as good a time as any.” Jaskier sighed, he sat down and hugged his knees to his chest as if in need for comfort and his smile turned sad while he spoke. “This is a very long story, should I start at the beginning or just get to the point?”

He could tell that Jaskier expected him demand a quick conclusion, but Geralt doubted this was a simple matter, and while he could be impatient, getting the full story was always the best way to avoid unpleasant surprises later on. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

“Right then. So, this all begins before I was even born.” Jaskier was speaking in chopped sentences, clearly trying to get the story out as concisely as possible, which made Geralt tense up with worry. “My father got himself cursed by a woman he executed for the crime of getting pregnant with is illegitimate daughter and demanding support for it. It was a bloodline curse, so it ended up aimed at us, his children. Long story short she cursed us into becoming monsters. I don’t know the exact words, but she said something about everyone seeing our true nature. One by one, the curse started hitting my brothers. They turned into kikimores, cockatrices, basilisks...” 

Jaskier’s voice choked up “I’m sorry, it’s been over a decade since I last spoke of this to anyone. My father had heard about a striga in Temaria that was cured by a witcher. So he called in wise men, sorcerers and witcher’s from all over the continent, spared no expense. But there were no good news. The child which was our blood. Her death made the curse too powerful, and it bound the curse to our whole bloodline. They all agreed it was irreversible.”

“I was much younger than my brothers, so they had all been taken over by the cursed by the time I left. But through them I learnt how to tell when the time is near. It’s near now, that’s why I put out a contract for a witcher.” 

“Why wait so long to ask for help? You travelled with me for over a decade, you’ve met powerful mages, Jaskier!” Geralt exclaimed, for the moment pushing most of what he heard aside to focus on how the situation could be solved.

“My dear friend, I didn’t ask for a witcher to come cure me. I asked for a witcher to come kill me before the curse takes hold.” As he said this Jaskier unwrapped himself from his self-embrace and moved closer to Geralt, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know this is a lot to take in, but it isn’t that different from a long illness finally taking over. I’ve known this was coming all my life, I’ve had time to come to terms and decided how I want things to end. I know I want to die as me, as Jaskier, and I don’t want to harm anyone.”

Jaskier was talking, but Geralt was struggling to reply as a white noise almost drowned out Jaskier’s voice and breathing was becoming difficult, black spots clouding his vision. 

“Oh dear, just, just sit right there and breathe Geralt, in and out, in and out, there you go, lets just do that for a while, yes? And it will all be good.” Jaskier rambled, moving the hand not on Geralt’s shoulder up and down to direct his breathing.

After a few minutes he managed to get his breathing under control and the white noise and black spots receded, and Geralt was able to focus again. Raising his gaze from the ground he met Jaskier’s concerned eyes. He must have moved while Geralt was distracted, he was now crouching in front of him, hands on Geralt’s knees, the familiar smell of him and the warmth of his hands soothing Geralt. 

“All better?” He questioned “Why don’t you have some fish, you must be hungry?”

Geralt gave Jaskier a disbelieving look. “You are certain that your family is cursed?”

“I am.”

“Yennefer is in Kaer Morhen, it’s a five day ride from here if we hurry.” Geralt urged, getting up to his feet. 

“I’m not leaving this island. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, it’s too late.” Jaskier stated firmly.

“What do you mean too late?” Geralt was shouting now, he noticed almost abstractly. 

“I don’t have enough time.” Jaskier said, apologetically “And I won’t waste it searching for something that doesn’t exist.”

“How can you be so sure there isn’t one?!” Geralt implored. 

“Geralt, I decided long ago that I would not waste any of the time I had left to search for something impossible. I wanted to enjoy the time I had left, not spend it chasing a cure.” Jaskier hadn’t raised his voice to match Geralt’s, but there was a note of steel to his tone, it was clear that changing his mind wouldn’t be easy. 

“I can search for you, then. You stay here, and I’ll bring Yennefer to you, I’ll bring anyone that can help to you.” He didn’t know if he was shouting or pleading at this point. “Please. Jaskier.”

“There isn't any time Geralt.” Jaskier said while approaching him and taking hold of his shoulders. “I have until the full moon, which is tomorrow.” He repeated slowly, looking into Geralt’s eyes when he spoke, the tone apologetic but firm. “I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Things had changed so quickly, earlier today he had been contemplating a future with Jaskier, and it felt like destiny had looked into his mind and mocked him for dreaming, even for a moment, of happiness. 

“You have to be wrong.” he pleaded. “I have to be able to save you.”

Jaskier put a hand on his cheek, and used the other to brush away strands of hair from Geralt’s face. “You have. You did.” He said while looking into Geralt’s eyes “The best experiences of my life have been at your side, the big once and the small. You helped me live a good life.”

“And I’m so grateful that you came back to me, Geralt, here at the end of it all. I’m so relived I don’t have to be alone.” Jaskier sobbed, tears making their way down his cheeks. But he didn’t wipe them off because his hands were still cradling Geralt’s face. 

Slowly, Geralt tipped his head so that their foreheads met, and brought up his hands to wipe away Jaskier’s tears “Schhh. Schhh” He murmured, “I’m sorry for shouting. It will be alright Jaskier. I promise you. I’ll make it alright.”

That just made more tears appear, Geralt’s fingers were wet now and he mostly just moved the liquid around, but he kept wiping the tears off Jaskier’s face. “I won’t have your promises Geralt. I don’t want you to be left with any guilt or regret. I’ve tried my best all my life not to leave anything negative behind, and I wouldn’t want to fail my very best friend.” Jaskier sniffled, snot now running down his nose and Geralt wiped that away too. “Oh gross.” Jaskier grimaced, scrunching his nose and then burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder as he let out a mix of laughter and sobs, not pulling himself back up until he had gotten himself under some control. 

“That was more emotional than I expected.” He finally said “I didn’t think I’d have time to share this with you, and I.” Jaskier interrupted himself, as if unsure if he should continue. “I suppose I didn’t think it would upset you so.”

“ _Jaskier_ ” Geralt growled, not able to express how ludicrous that idea was.

“Yes, I suppose I was wrong there.” Jaskier replied. 

“Look. Why don’t. I think. We need a moment to collect ourselves? Yes. That’s a good plan. I’ll cook the fish before it goes bad, and. Why don’t you take a walk, cool your head a bit and come join me when you feel better?”

“ _Better?_ ” Geralt growled, how on earth could a walk make him feel better about Jaskier dying.

“Well, calmer then.” Jaskier shrugged, throwing his hands up “And ready to try full sentences again. We will get nowhere if we just shout and cry at each other, so go and do as you were told!” 

Angrily Geralt stalked off, but there wasn’t really any way to make a graceful exit in an island this small. There were just a handful of trees to his left, not nearly enough to provide cover. Not nearly enough space to run through the anger and panic coursing in his veins. 

He could smell the fish cooking, though Jaskier was silent, no humming, just his heartbeat filling Geralt ears. He was so healthy, so young. He was only just back in Geralt’s life. This is why he didn’t get close to others, they all left. But Jaskier had never wanted to leave, had only ever wanted to stay by his side, out of all the people on it he had chosen a witcher, Geralt, to spend his precious time on. And Geralt had never shown him any appreciation. Had driven him away even, in a fit of petty anger. ‘If life would give me one blessing, it would be to take you of my hands’ his own words echoed in his head. 

“Fuuuuck!” He gave a roar and punched at the nearest tree until it fell, his chest rising and falling rapidly. It hit the water with a splash, and Geralt didn’t feel any better. He could feel Jaskier’s eyes on the back of his neck, but the bard held his tongue. 

A light summer rain started up and Jaskier moved to the porch where he started playing his lute, but Geralt kept pacing the island until his breathing and pulse slowed down. When he finally felt like he could speak without screaming he made his way back to Jaskier and sat next to him, both of them looking out at the waves for a moment before speaking. 

“Have some wine.” Jaskier implored, pushing a bottle towards him. 

“You are sure, absolutely sure about this curse?” Geralt asked. 

“I am, all four of my brothers went through it.” Jaskier answered before taking a drink straight from the bottle “My time has come. Thirty years may not seem like much to you, but I’ve lived a much longer life then I expected. Tomasz only lived to twenty-two. In its own way I’ve been lucky, but as we both know, one can’t cheat destiny forever.” 

“The only way to stop the curse is by killing you?” 

“I don’t know.” Jaskier paused. ”That’s why I wanted a witcher. What if it isn’t enough to die? I don’t want to leave these people with some kind of undead monster on their hands.”

“What if I hadn’t turned up?”

“I have a silver knife and enough oil to burn down the cabin and me. I though surly with no body there would be no danger left? And I chose this island because it’s isolated enough that the people here should be safe if the curse still take hold somehow. And eventually a witcher would turn up to help them. I was planning on burying the coins by the dock and leaving it for them.”

“So if I had come in a weeks’ time?” Geralt croaked, shell chocked “There wouldn’t even be a body to bury?”

“I have to burn my body Geralt. I’ve travelled with you long enough to know that.”

“If you can’t do it, it’s alright. I meant it about not leaving pain behind.” Jaskier said in a trembling voice, trying so hard to sound unbothered, but sounding so scared. “I’ve been preparing how to do this alone. You could just sit here and make sure my. my. corpse doesn’t rise or anything. And then you can set fire to the cabin and leave. You don’t have to be in there with me.” 

“I’m moving all the paintings to the bedroom, being surrounded by memories. It will be alright Geralt, truly.” Jaskier vowed. 

Geralt was at a loss for words, here Jaskier was doing his best to reassure Geralt, speaking of his own death as if it was nothing of concern. As if it was just a thing to do, not the death of one of the most important people in Geralt’s life. All these emotions were welling up inside Geralt, it was too much, he couldn’t speak.

It was clear that Jaskier had thought of everything. If the situation was different, Geralt would have commended a man going to these lengths to keep everyone safe. And he did admire Jaskier, there was no denying the bravery of the man sat next to him. But this was Jaskier, and he wasn’t ready to accept his death. 

“I saw what my brothers did when the curse took hold. People suffered and died. The curse left so much pain behind and I swore that wouldn’t be me. I would never hurt anyone if I could help it.” Jaskier sounded distant, Geralt could tell this was Jaskier’s code, something he had repeated again and again in his mind. If bravery had scent, it would have to be this, this mix of fear, determination, and care that he could smell on Jaskier. 

“Not that I was a saint mind you, you of all people know that.” Jaskier added with a small smile, giving Geralt’s shoulder a poke. “Do you want some fish? You didn’t eat any and I left a plate on the table inside.”

“Jaskier. You will not be alone. Anything you need I’ll do it, I’ll be there. You have my word.” Geralt vowed, trying to catch his eye and not letting Jaskier distract him with food.

“You don’t have to.” Jaskier whispered, eyes on the waves.

“You won’t be alone.” Geralt repeated, promise heavy in his voice “I will be there with you.” 

Jaskier made a sound like the air had been punched out of him, and an overwhelming scent of relief washed over Geralt. As the scent of fear receded Geralt realised the fear he had sensed hadn’t been fear of death or the curse as he had assumed, it had been fear of being alone. 

“Thank you. I’m sorry I don’t know why I can’t stop. Thank you” Jaskier gasped, overwhelmed and unable to control his reaction to Geralt’s words, his hands shaking and sobs breaking out as the tension and fear he had carried released some of its hold of him. Slumping against the cabin wall Jaskier sort of curled around himself as the sobbing receded, trying to comfort himself. 

“I always imagined I’d have more dignity about this.” He mumbled against his knees. 

Geralt was sitting stiff and frozen next to the ball of Jaskier to his left, and he didn’t know how to explain to him that Jaskier was probably the bravest person he has met, so instead he carefully shuffled closer and sort of scooped him up with left arm, pushing him into his side. Jaskier didn’t hesitate, his arms circled Geralt’s chest and he pushed his face under Geralt’s chin, clinging with surprising strength. 

They sat like that for a while, Geralt slowly moving his hand up and down Jaskier’s side, while Jaskier’s breathing slowly evened out and his hands stopped shaking. Geralt could feel Jaskier cheeks heating up, and he didn’t want him to be embarrassed so he rumbled out a “Schh. It’s alright Jaskier.” He hoped it sounded soothing, it worked on Roach and from the way Jaskier relaxed back into him it appeared to have worked on him as well. 

“So, you’ve always known. ” Geralt said, breaking the silence and looking down at top of Jaskier head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t want pity.” Jaskier answered, slowly releasing his hold on Geralt, and adjusting himself so that they were now sitting side by side, with Jaskier head on his shoulder and each with an arm wrapped around the other. “I spent fifteen years in a house where I was constantly remined that I was dying. I didn’t want pity or despair hanging over me, I just wanted to enjoy life.” 

Geralt could tell though, from the way Jaskier was carefully considering his words that he was holding something back. “You know I don’t do pity Jaskier, did you truly never consider telling me? Was I just supposed to wake up to you gone one day?” 

“Do you want an honest answer? Some truths might be uncomfortable to hear, I won’t lie to you, not this close to my deathbed, but I’d rather spare us both, if it’s all the same.”

“Tell me.” Geralt ordered.

“Well, the first few years I truly saw no need to. But was the years past and we kept meeting and I kept staying, I thought about telling you, and I though about leaving you. You became my closest friend, yet you refused to name me as yours. Don’t get me wrong, I knew you cared for me, but as long as you didn’t feel as strongly, you wouldn’t be left hurt when I left. And that meant I could allow myself to love you. I could stay.”

Jaskier’s voice grew distant, his words directed at the sea. “But then the years continued passing, giving more of them than I dared to hope, and I continued staying and loving you. I knew I had to tell you, but I was dragging my heels a bit, reluctant for things to change. But then last year I finally realised what it meant that the coast had been calling for me, that my time was coming to an end and. I.” Jaskier paused here, drawing a deep breath. “I was building up the courage to tell you, but I didn’t quite manage it yet there on the mountain. Rather foolishly, I thought we would have more time to work it out.”

“I don’t want anything I just said to cause you pain or guilt. I had been alone until I met you, getting to share my life with you, being your friend. You don’t understand the gift you gave me, how happy you made throughout the years. And now here you are, at the end of my journey, saving me from having to face it alone.” Jaskier had moved so that he was crouching in front of Geralt, looking him deep in his eyes as he said “Thank you.”

“Jaskier don’t thank me!” Geralt protested, listening to Jaskier, it was his turn to feel like the air had been punched out of him. It was all too much, it was all so much, and yet he would never have enough. “All this time, and I kept pushing you away and. I was so careless.” With you. I didn’t know, he kept thinking. I didn’t know and I wasted _all_ your time. Oh, gods I wasted all _our_ time. 

“I am thanking you, because I got to live a good life by your side.” Jaskier was still looking intently into his eyes “I don’t want you to feel regret for a single moment, because I wouldn’t trade away a second of it. Not the disgusting seconds, the mundane seconds, or the scary seconds. I was _so_ happy. Don’t regret it, please.” Jaskier’s hand came forward to wipe under Geralt’s eyes and he was shocked to se tears there. 

“I worry you will take the wrong lessons from all this and just feel guilty. That’s it’s the last thing I want. I want you leave this island knowing I have no regrets, that I got more out of life than I thought possible. So just please, look back at our time with fondness. Remember the silly bard who followed you around for a time, have an ale when you hear one of my songs and smile when you think of me.” Jaskier gave him a soft smile, “Don’t worry, the smile can be internal.”

“Could you promise me that? No regrets, just some fond memories of an old friend.” Jaskier implored, and fuck, he looked so worried for Geralt. 

He had never wanted to punch and cradle someone at the same time before. The mere idea that he could row off this island tomorrow with no regrets and a fond smile was ludicrous. 

He had always assumed Jaskier prodding and prompting him about his feelings towards him was Jaskier looking for assurance of Geralt’s affections, which he had always denied having, to both Jaskier and himself. But it appeared that Jaskier had been asking to make sure Geralt wasn’t too fond of him, and his rejection had made Jaskier feel safe enough to stay by his side. Fools, the both of them. 

Could he honour such a promise? He didn’t have time to hide from his feelings for another ten years, and he wouldn’t dishonour a promise to a dying man. He forced himself to face the question head on, and give them both an honest answer. 

“Jaskier.” He forced himself to speak, he owed this to them both “As things stand, I can’t give you that promise.”

Jaskier made a wounded noise in reply but Geralt shushed him. There wasn’t time for hesitation or second thoughts.

“I’ve spent a year regretting how I’ve treated you, not just on that mountain but during our years together. Our time now is limited, but if you would allow it, I’d spend our remaining time together showing you how much I care.”

“Would that remove your regret?”

“It’s the only thing that can.”

“Then anything Geralt, anything you need.” Jaskier promised. Gods, the look in his eyes, how had I not noticed all that love before? Geralt thought. 

_I need you to stay._ Was all Geralt wanted to say, bit voicing that would help neither of them. Instead he grabbed Jaskier’s face and crushed their mouths together. 

It wasn’t his most graceful kiss, Jaskier was clearly not prepared and as their mouths crashed together their teeth clinked rather unpleasantly. For a few long seconds Jaskier’s shocked eyes stared into his, going almost cross eyed as their mouths touched, both of them unmoving.

Jaskier pulled back just enough to ask “Are you sure? I should tell you no, my love, but I am weak with wanting. I always have been when it comes to you.” 

“Then don’t say anything. Just let me show you how sure I am.” 

With that Geralt bent forward, gently this time, a hand coming up to cradle the back of Jaskier’s head as he pulled him back against Geralt’s lips. Geralt wanted to take this slow, to really prove how much he revered Jaskier, but hours of intense emotions got the better of them and their union was almost violent in its intensity.

“Fuck. Take it off I need to feel you” Jaskier panted against his lips while tugging at his shirt. 

“Mmm” Grealt responded ripping his shirt of rather than put space between them for one moment. 

“Oh god. Oh god. That just. Fantastic.” Jaskier rambled, pupils blown wide. He moved even closer, setting himself in Geralt’s lap, his mouth now attacking Geralt’s throat while his hands clawed at his back and then started caressing his chest, his nipples, pulling at his hair. 

Geralt let out a growl of arousal and frustration, because the damn man hadn’t removed any of his own clothes and Geralt needed to get his hands on him, to ground himself in Jaskier. 

“Up.” Geralt ordered but Jaskier paid him no mind as his mouth travelled up and eth pulled at Geralt’s earlobe, causing shivers to run down his body and his need to grow. 

“Mmmm. Jaskier hands up.” He tried again, finally getting through to Jaskier, who raised his hands above his head, allowing Geralt to pull his chemise off. “Trousers too come on”

They both scrambled to remove all their clothing, Jaskier falling back into his lap the moment they were both freed.

Geralt took in the sight before him, Jaskier flushed from arousal, his thighs straining as he across Geralt’s lap, is lips puffy and red. 

The moment seemed to still, all he could hear were their frantic breaths and rapid heartbeats. He allowed himself a few seconds to memorise this moment, Jaskier’s playful smile, his scent, his desire and how they made him feel. 

Then he grabbed Jaskier’s hips and pulled him forward, grinding his hardness against Jaskier while his mouth found Jaskier’s in another frantic kiss. They were both too would up to do anything but grind, Jaskier’s harness leaving a trail of pre-cum on Geralt’s stomach. Both grasping, caressing and in Jaskier’s case, scratching each other. 

“Jaskier.” he growled at the sensation of nails down his back, his arousal mounting. 

“Mmm you like that huh? Then you‘ll love fucking me, I go quite wild with the right person.” Jaskier’s moaned, the words lighting a fire in Geralt’s belly. 

Geralt wanted to kiss him but he didn’t want the beautiful sounds to stop so instead he caught Jaskier’s left nipple with his mouth to occupy his mouth. 

“Oh oh!” Jaskier’s grinding grew more frantic, his fingers digging into Geralt. He let out a mournful whine when his movements accidentally dislodged Geralt’s mouth, grabbing onto Geralt’s hair tugging him back where he wanted him while moaning “Yes. Yes oh stay right there.” 

Geralt was happy to comply, bringing one had to tweak the abandoned nipple and placing the other on Jaskier hip to slow down his movements enough that Geralt could continue suckling. 

Jaskier kept his hand in Geralt’s hair, unconsciously tugging at his hair in time with Geralt’s tongue. 

“Yes oh, keep sucking me, just like that oh.” Jaskier groaned, pushing his chest into Geralt’s mouth while he shifted in his arms and moved both hands down so that he could stroke both their erections at the same time. 

They didn’t last long once Jaskier started stroking them together, the sensation of it caused Geralt to involuntarily bite down on Jaskier nipple. He was just about to rumble an apology when Jaskier gave a deep moan and came, thighs trembling and letting out beautiful “Ah ah ha” noises as he came down. The scent of Jaskier spent on Geralt, of their scents mixing, Jaskier’s skin under his mouth and the sounds he was making for Geralt. It was all too much and with a last twist of Jaskier’s wrist he came with a deep groan that he buried against Jaskier’s chest. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

It was evening now, but the sun was out, so Jaskier pulled him down into the water to clean up. Cleaning up alongside Jaskier was a familiar experience made new by how playful Jaskier was and the touches they were free to share. 

When they were clean Jaskier made a show of exciting the water first, walking onto land hips swaying as the water droplets ran down his back. 

“What are you waiting for?” he called over his shoulder before racing up the shore, his voice full of laughter and delight. 

Geralt’s lips pulled into a smile as he marched after Jaskier with determined steps. Catching up to him, he grabbed hold of Jaskier’s slippery hips, crowding him against the cabin door. Jaskier pulled him into a kiss, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s shoulders. They stayed there, naked as the day they were born, kisses sometimes interrupted by Jaskier’s delighted laughs or by Geralt’s need to just breath him in, tonguing his pulse and breathing in the smell of him. 

Decades of training had taught Geralt to trust only what he could see, touch, smell, or hear, and all Geralt could sense from Jaskier, with all his focus directed at him, was a healthy young man. It made it almost impossible for him to fully accept what Jaskier had told him today. He knew the man in front of him was telling him what he believed to be the truth, but everything in Geralt was screaming that it had to be a mistake, not just his senses, but his heart, he just couldn’t accept it. 

“Schhh. Schh.” Jaskier soothed, hands slowly moving up and down his back, and Geralt realised he had begun whimpering into Jaskier’s neck, face pressed into his pulse. Geralt was to distraught to be embarrassed, lingering in the comforting embrace while Jaskier hummed what sounded like a nursery song in his ear. 

When he gathered himself up and released his hold of Jaskier, he saw that he would surly leave bruises from where he had grabbed onto him, but Jaskier gave no hint of discomfort as he slipped inside the cabin, giving Geralt a moment to gather himself. 

Jaskier came back out, still completely nude, carrying blankets and wine. He spread a blanket on the porch and wrapped one around his shoulder as he motioned for Geralt to join him. 

He truly was a vision, hair still damp and curling, long lean legs stretched out, and his collar bone and chest peaking out from the blanket, nipples still red from the treatment they had received not long ago. 

Geralt sat down next to him and Jaskier wasted no time in taking Geralt’s arm and wrapping it around his shoulder, his own arm finding Geralt’s lower back and his legs tangling with Geralt’s. He gave a deep sigh and gave Geralt’s cheek a kiss before resting his head on his shoulder. It made the breath catch in his chest. He was not used to this type of intimacy. His heart felt full of contentment and hopelessness, not eased when he gazed at the sky and noticed that the moon had joined the sun. 

Jaskier followed his gaze and hummed “Around this time tomorrow it will be a full moon.” 

“But we don’t have to talk about that now.” Jaskier reassured “We should talk about something else, maybe share some stories?”

“Sing for me.” Geralt pleaded, he didn’t think he could bring himself to speak now. 

Jaskier went crawling for his lute, neither of them speaking as he settled back against the wall. Jaskier’s fingers plucking at the strings, going for one melody to the next as if unsure which song to pick. 

“This is the first song I remember writing.” he said, as his fingers created a simple melody, very different from the more advanced compositions Geralt was used to hearing from him. “My mother wasn’t feeling well, and I wanted to comfort her. We used to sing it together”

[ _I'm lying on the moon_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Twg25xkACwo)

_My dear, I'll be there soon_

_It's a quiet and starry place_

_But with you my dear_

_I'm safe and we're a million miles away_

Geralt tried to picture little Jaskier, had be been a precocious child? A little performer forcing his family to gather around and listen to his songs? Jaskier continues playing, now singing softly in another language, and the only word Geralt can pick out is Jaskier. 

“Are you singing about yourself?” He laughs.

“I’m singing in Keracki” Jaskier answered, music still coming from his lute “My father forbade it in the house, though it was common, but my mom grew up speaking it and she taught me her favourite songs.” 

“And Jaskier?”

“Means buttercup” he answered with a smile. 

“You’ve been calling yourself buttercup? _I’ve_ been calling you buttercup?”

“Mhmm” Jaskier laughed. “Suits me, I think.”

Geralt couldn’t help barking out a laugh. God, this man continued to surprise him. 

“I’d like to hear some of those stories now.” Geralt whispered, pulling Jaskier back against him. 

And so they talked, Jaskier told him of his youth, his home, his mother. His stories more serious and sad than Geralt ever imagined for him. But also full of such wonder and kindness, when he spoke of mischief and adventures. How was Jaskier be so generous and kind when dealt such cards in life, how isn’t he angry? Geralt is angry for him, but he wont let that emotion distract him from the moment. 

When Jaskier grows hoarse, Geralt shares his own stories. About his mother, Kaer Morhen, Vesemir and his witcher brothers, about years of anger and bitterness and resentment. But he also tells him how meeting Ciri for the first time felt, how it changed him to have something like a daughter to care for, and how his life turned around after Posada and that goddamned song. 

The sun sets for a few hours and starts rising again, and it will be morning soon, and still they talk. The first girl they kissed, the first boy they had. What emotions smell like, how a lute felt under Jaskier’s fingers the first time he held one. Jaskier is growing tired but Geralt won’t let him sleep. Keeps asking for more stories, or silly childhood songs of cats. 

Eventually Jaskier falls asleep, still trying to talk, and Geralt lets him rest. Slowly moving his had onto his lap and stroking his hair, needing to feel that connection. Geralt lets him sleep for a few hours, watching as the sun moves higher in the sky, before he gives him a little shake. 

Jaskier lay on his back, his head still in Geralt’s lap, grimacing as the sun hits his eyes. Gods, Geralt would give anything in the world to wake up to this vision every morning. For just one more day. 

Jaskier humms and sings as they prepare breakfast together, and they eat it outside in compatible silence. Jaskier is calm, not a trace of fear on him, but there is a sadness in his eyes that tries to hide from Geralt, just as Geralt tries his best to hide his own, both of them pretending this is just a normal morning. 

They keep on pretending, they fish, they bathe, they cook. Jaskier keeps chattering and humming and singing, but Geralt hasn’t been able to utter a single word since Jaskier woke. He know if he tries he would break this little pretence, would break apart. 

Midday Jaskier asks him make firewood out of the tree he punched down, and when he has completed the task and returns he finds that Jaskier has changed clothes. He has been wearing an old pair of cotton trousers and a thin worn out chemise this whole time, but now he is standing on his porch wearing a new light blue silk outfit, doublet even buttoned up for once. Next to him are Geralt’s swords.

“That firewood should be enough for a funeral pyre. I put all the valuable possession I have on the table, you can grab them later when you leave.” Jaskier’s voice steady as he speaks, calm, but he looks heartbroken. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this outside. Grab a sword and lets go to the dock.”

Geralt just wants to freeze up, wants to scream, wants to rage. But for Jaskier he pushes that down, and forces himself to grab his sword. 

“The silver one Geralt.” Jaskier reminds him, with a sad smile. “Silver for monsters.” 

Geralt has to swallow, putting back his steal sword and grabbing the silver. They walk to the dock in silence, and all Geralt wants to do is throw his sword into the sea. And swear to Jaskier no one will harm him. But that’s not what Jaskier wants, that would mean breaking a promise. 

When he reaches the edge of the dock, Jaskier turns around and faces Geralt. Tears are running down his eyes as he bends forwards and kisses Geralt’s forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, his hands even the one holding the sword. He kisses the place where Geralt heart is, and then bends down and kisses both his feet. 

While he does this he says “Thank you.”

He says “I love you.”

He says “You made me happy.”

Then he rises back to his feet and Geralt can’t speak. This is his last chance and he can’t get a single word out. 

“It’s alright Geralt, I know. I know.” God, there is such love in his eyes. 

“It’s time. You need to do it now.” You promised him he wouldn’t have to die a monster. You have to do this for him Geralt told himself, but his sword arm wouldn’t raise. 

Geralt’s amulet gave a hum of warning. 

“Geralt.” Jaskier urged. 

Geralt raised the silver sword so that it was parallel to the dock. His hand was shaking. 

“Geralt, I can feel it starting” Jaskier sounded scared now. Fuck, fuck he _promised_. 

“I can’t” He cried. “Jaskier. Oh Jaskier I’m so sorry. I can’t”

Jaskier looked scared now. Fuck, he was supposed to make this easier. He was supposed to help.

“It’s. well. Then you kill me once I turn. Don’t leave these people with a monster, and don’t force me to live like one. You can do that right? Kill me when I’m a cockatrice or something? Don’t leave me like that.” Jaskier pleaded as he grabbed Geralt’s face and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Can you promise me?” He urged.

“I promise. I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t watch you die.” Geralt swore. 

“Then I hold you to that.” Jaskier looked off to the side before continuing. “It’s happening now. I can feel it. It doesn’t hurt. You might want to step back a little so I don’t hurt you.”

Geralt took a step closer, dropping his sword as he grabbed Jaskier by the neck with both hands and pulled him into a desperate kiss. 

One second Jaskier’s body was in his arms, the next it was gone. 

Geralt snapped open his eyes and watched as Jaskier’s body slowly melted into mist, feeling completely dumbfounded. A few seconds passed, and with a snap Jaskier reappeared in front of him, looking completely shocked, looking like himself. 

“What did you do?” Jaskier stammered, looking down at his own body and patting it with his hands as it to verify for himself it was all there, was all the same. Geralt could only stare as Jaskier continues his self examination, shoving fingers in his mouth and checking his own teeth. 

“I didn’t do anything.” He finally replied, feeling just as shocked as Jaskier looked. 

“But. I’m me?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt’s amulet was still humming. He took a step forward, put his nose against Jaskier’s neck and took a deep breath in. He smelled like Jaskier always had, and like something completely new. He took another breath, honing in on the new scent, it made hit tongue tingle, and it definitely wasn’t human. 

“I don’t think you are fully human anymore” Geralt finally replied. Jaskier had started swaying where he stood, so Geralt wrapped an arm around him and started leading them back to solid ground, stepping over the silver sword still laying on the dock. 

“I could be dangerous Geralt, grab your sword!” Jaskier demanded. 

“You can barely stand up, buttercup, I think I’ll be fine.” Geralt huffed. Truth be told, he didn’t think he would be able to lift that sword for a while. 

When Jaskier’s feet touched the ground, buttercups sprouted up. 

“Um.” Geralt grunted.

“What?” Jaskier turned around to ask.

“Look at your feet.”

Jaskier took another step, and buttercups sprouted up to meet him. 

“That’s new.” He said, looking nonplussed. 

Next thing they knew a songbird landed on Jaskier’s shoulder and started chirping. 

“Hello.” Jaskier told the bird. “I’m supposed to be dead, Geralt. Dead or a monster. I’m not and what’s this bird doing talking to me?” 

“Talking to you?” Geralt questioned. 

“Yeah, she said hello. Said she’s from Novigrad and migrated here for the summer. Was flying by and wanted to say hello. Is she a creature of some kind or am I talking to birds now?” 

“That’s a normal bird. You are not a normal bard anymore.” Geralt felt like the clues were plentiful but his mind was so scattered he was having trouble reaching a conclusion. 

When Jaskier turned to answer the bird, the sounds he let out weren’t completely human. It sounded like a cross between a birdsong and his singing voice. It was beautiful. It caused shivers to run down Geralt spine, and a feeling of elation began to course through his veins. 

“Sprite.” He declared. 

“Wha?” 

“Nature sprite.” Geralt was grinning now, he couldn’t stop it, “A custodian of nature. That’s what you are.” 

“But, they aren’t monsters? And I’m supposed to be a monster” Jaskier questioned. 

“What did the curse say, word for word?”

“That it would lay bare our true nature, and show the world what we really were…”

“Jaskier!” Geralt exclaimed, “Jaskier, sweetheart, buttercup. Idiot!” Geralt was so happy he must be looking manic, and Jaskier was staring at him in utter confusion. “This is who you are.” Fuck, he had to kiss him before continuing. “This is who you are. Humans think anything non-human is a monster. The curs was free to choose and since there wasn’t anything bad in you to latch onto, it latched onto the good in you.”

Jaskier looked like he was to afraid to believe what he was hearing, so Geralt continued explaining, didn’t think he could stop. 

“You love so much and so freely. You wonder at nature and you always look the happiest when we sleep under the stars. All you want is to leave something good behind in the world. To love. You give and give and give and never demand anything. Who you are, the essence of you, could never be twisted into a monster.” Jaskier was still here. Jaskier was _alive_. 

Was the sun shining brighter? 

“I get to stay?” Jaskier chocked out in a broken voice. “I get to stay?”

“Oh sweetheart, you are going to be staying for a long long time, if I have anything to say about it.”

“Oh.” And then Jaskier was falling into him and crying, his whole body shaking with sobs as he finally accepted what Geralt was telling him. 

They sat there for a long time, holding each other.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic ever! Please let me know what you thought! And sorry for spelling/grammar issues English is not my first language. 
> 
> I'm planning to post a short epilogueish sequel.
> 
> Apologies for any polish speakers, I just put build me up buttercup through google translate. I have no idea if different parts of the continent speak different languages, but i decided they must and that in Kerack they speak polish. Well, in this fic they do at least. 
> 
> Jaskiers island ref pics  
> [here](http://dinfo.se/wp-content/uploads/sites/848/2016/10/iStock_71597299_SMALL-762x294.jpg) and [here](https://svenssonmotstrommen.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/mora-idyll-ved-siljan.jpg)  
> 
> 
> [Jaskier's moral code whenever Valdo Marx is near (warning for some violence)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VnuGC3reAkc)
> 
> I'm on tumblr @ thedaywasnew, come say hi :)


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